


stained by just a few

by JenLi



Series: Selection OC 6 [7]
Category: Selection OC
Genre: Gen, a lot of crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenLi/pseuds/JenLi
Summary: The Birthday RP - Challenge 3
Series: Selection OC 6 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742209
Kudos: 1





	stained by just a few

**Author's Note:**

> This got really out of hand, and I've got so much to do still. Please Oh Arin with me.
> 
> RPs with Arin and Idalia
> 
> TW: More references to her assault (Not rape), a little bit more detailed.

Jen didn’t actually realize what the day and month were until a few days before. In reality, she was aware of the passage of time, but it didn’t quite process in her head until she suddenly remembered the circumstances her and Wylan’s movie-watching plans had come from. Her birthday almost always snuck up on her, but she’d never cut it so close.

Her last actual party had been a particularly boring affair for her 20th, something Deirdre had set up and planned with good intentions but godawful execution, and Jen had ended up going to bed at 10 PM after a single shot of vodka, and no one had known the difference. That year, she’d started her tradition.

Once a year on her birthday, she could watch one season of Gossip Girl, the most mind-numbingly awful show in existence, and do whatever the hell she wanted to.

She didn’t care if she was at the palace. There was no way her birthday tradition would be going awry.

Season four would take around 16 hours without breaks, so that meant breakfast had to be skipped. She never ate much of it anyway, though her maids wouldn’t be happy. She figured her lack of presence probably would’ve been noticed by lunch, so she’d planned on pausing long enough to attend, the same with dinner. 

Most of her day was spent rather splendidly. Her morning consisted of not getting dressed and eating cornflakes she’d convinced one of her maids to smuggle out of the staff cupboards while her show played on. No one bothered her except for June coming in to announce a small package from Idalia that she would read open later, probably a product of her nosiness. Jen hadn’t told her it was her birthday, but Idalia had a way of finding things out, even if they weren’t that close of friends. Their interactions were limited to Idalia dragging Jen out to see the light of day, having a particularly interesting run-in with Felicity, and Idalia reading in her room in silence whenever the urge struck her. She didn’t mind those days so much. 

Meals were the same as always, thankfully with no spontaneous singing of the happy birthday song that would’ve made her want to crawl under her table, and she was able to return to her room with no one commenting on her new age.

  1. 23 had seemed to drag on forever, so it finally passing was as much a surprise as it was a blessing. She was finally able to lie back and feel like things were looking up just a little bit more.



At least, she could until whatever semblance of peace she’d received vanished

_ Happy birthday, Jennie. _

She would’ve been a fool to not expect him to text, but she had expected it much sooner than he had. Weeks had passed, over a month since she’d left now. She’d suspected he would text within a week, but he hadn’t. Ian waited until her birthday to let her know that he was there and would never leave. Hanging over her head and inviting himself into yet another year of her life.

She wouldn’t text back, she told herself, but Ian and self-control never seemed to exist in the same sentence.

_ Don’t text me again. _

He didn’t reply right away. She went back to her show, watching with the sheets pulled up to her nose, both hoping to hear the buzz and praying it would never arrive.

_ I wish you wouldn’t do this to us. _

Us. He still thought there was an  _ us. _

_ Go back to your wife and stop texting me, Ian. _

They had their rules. They never texted anything incriminating. Never. Things got too tricky that way, too much of a risk, and the last thing they needed was a text popping up in front of someone who couldn’t know. He couldn’t do this.

_ They show you on camera sometimes, babygirl. You don’t look very happy. _

He couldn’t do this.

_ Stop, _ she sent back.

He couldn’t.

_ Do you really think that prince will ever care about you the way I do? _

He couldn’t.

_ He won’t, Jennie. Stop wasting your time. _

_ I’m the best you’ll ever get. _

_ No one will ever love you the way I do. _

_ Do you think he wants to put up with your shit? _

_ He doesn’t. He never will. _

Gossip Girl played on, but nothing registered in her head, just a jumble of dialogue in through one ear and out the other. She’d been so close. She’d been so close to a good birthday, absolutely nothing wrong with it in any way. He’d ruined it like he’d ruined every other aspect of her life too.

It took a moment for her to register the knock at the door, but she managed to calm herself down enough to tell the invading party to come in, figuring it was one of her maids or Idalia coming to check on her. She could explain some shakiness pretty easily. It was practically becoming second nature at this point. 

She was surprised, though, to be met with not with Idalia being nosy yet sweet nor her maid coming to check up on her after dinner, but instead with likely the last person she expected to show up at her door.

“Am I going to have to drag you out of bed?” Arin Schreave wasn’t looking at her when he asked the question, eyes surveying the room as if he didn’t live in this place, but when he finally looked at her there was a small smile on his face.

_ Do you really think that prince will ever care about you the way I do? _

She didn’t, but spending a night together on the kitchen floor had to account for something, didn’t it? “Why are we dragging me out of bed exactly?” Her tone was level, her heart finally calming from its racing. She paused her show and silenced the phone before pushing it away.

“We’re going out,” he told her, stopping at the foot of her bed before tilting his head.

It was that moment that she realized she was still lying down, so she sat up quickly, letting the sheets fall to reveal Wylan’s hoodie and instead pool around her bottom half. “Out?” She reached forward to stretch her legs a little since they’d been especially useless today. Her phone lay cast away. “Why?”

“You know why.”

She studied the pointed look on his face for a second before the realization dawned on her. “Are you trying to take me out for my birthday?”

“I really hope you didn't just now realize that it's your birthday today.” The funny thing was, she had no idea  _ he _ knew it was her birthday. They hadn’t spoken since that night in the kitchen, even if his occasional greeting in the halls was a reminder of that particular development. Today, he’d give no indication that he knew she existed, let alone planning to take her out. For all she knew, someone from his staff told him an hour ago he had to do this.

She scoffed at the mere presumption she could forget her own birthday. Granted, she was close to, but not that close. “I knew it was my birthday. What do you think I'm doing right now?” She gestured to her phone. “I only watch Gossip Girl one day a year, and that's today.”

He gave her an eye-roll, but it was a weak attempt. “And there are other things we could be doing instead.”

She hummed and couldn’t help but be reminded of those letters they’d sent. They’d stopped after that unfortunate run-in in the library and hadn’t brought them up since. “And what are these other things you speak of?”

She tried not to stare at the way he leaned further over her bed. “You getting out of this bed so we can go out.”

_ Or we can stay in, and you can join me here instead. _ “And what are you gonna give me if I do?”

The look he gave her was one of exasperation, practically screaming  _ Girl, just get out of bed. _ “A birthday present.”

She supposed there were worse things than going out, and if it distracted her from her phone, then it would be worth it, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “Fine, but it better be good.” She almost got up, but she looked down at herself and stopped herself, meeting his eyes again. “Full disclosure, I'm not wearing pants, so either turn around or deal.”

“Of course you’re not wearing pants,” he said after turning his back to her.

She wasn’t wearing a bra either, but she wouldn’t tell him that. She hopped out of bed then, but right as she took the few steps toward her bathroom, she turned back to him. “What is the dress code?”

“Nothing fancy. And please wear comfortable shoes.”

She didn’t wait to hear his reply before entering the bathroom but remained in the entrance so that she could still hear him. When he finished speaking, she ventured into the closet, eyes roaming over the small collection she’d compiled over the past month. A lot of dresses, which she supposed was alright. She didn’t prefer them, but she couldn’t deny they were nice to wear on occasion. More than that, though, she liked the selection of pants she’d gained, much nicer than most of the clothes back home. They were mostly what she wore around the palace, though dresses were becoming more and more frequent with the Angeles summer heat in full force now. 

She kept it simple with a white button-down and black slacks, almost matching his but not quite, and grabbed a pair of flats from one of the shelves of shoes before venturing back out. He was sitting on the edge of her bed when she appeared in front of him again, but she forced herself to push that thought away, instead holding out the shoes for his inspection. “Are these acceptable?”

He stood up from the bed and nodded. “As long as you're comfortable.”

She took a step closer and sat a hand on his shoulder to balance while slipping on one of her shoes, all too aware of the familiarity of it. “Here I thought you'd enjoyed taking my shoes off for me.” She still wouldn’t deny him on his knees a kind sight to her eyes. A repetition of the action may not have been a good idea, but she couldn’t say she would mind.

“Come on, birthday girl,” he said as she slipped on her other shoe, “we're going to be late.”

It took everything in her power not to react to “birthday girl” and instead stand normally in front of him. “Fine, I'm ready. Better make this worth it.”

He chuckled as he walked over to her door, opening it and watching as she followed. “Or what? There's a no return policy on birthday gifts.”

She stopped in front of him, narrowing her eyes in challenge. “Gift receipts exist for a reason.”

He shrugged, a knowing smile on his lips. “Not all gifts come with gift receipts.”

“Then let's hope you know what I like.” She met his gaze, well aware of what she’d said, even if she hadn’t entirely thought it through.

He didn’t speak again for a moment, like he was taking the time to process what she’d just said. She didn’t blame him. “We're going to be late.” His words were slower than they usually were, volume low as he met her eyes.

“Will Kevin be joining us?” she asked, mostly to just lighten the mood a little.

“No, he’s at home tonight. Someone else is coming with us.” They stepped out into the hall, and she stayed by his side while they walked but with some distance. It’d been a week since their run-in in the kitchen, and even if some of the distance between them had lessened, she still wasn’t sure what was okay and what wasn’t. It was better to be safe than regret it later. With that thought in mind, she simply hummed her acknowledgment while he looked over at her.  “Have you had a good birthday so far?”

“It’s been perfect. Only four more episodes left to watch.” It was possible to read it as a joke, but she was serious.

“Do you miss home? Today, I mean.”

They stopped at the stairs, and he offered out his hand to her. She wasn’t sure if she contained her shock well enough, but she couldn’t blame herself. She hadn’t expected much to last from that night, but especially not  _ this. _ Even so, when she looked at his hand, she found she actually did want to take it, so she slid her hand into his, albeit a little timidly. “No, not particularly.” There was silence for a moment, and she couldn’t blame him for not knowing what to say. “We've never really done much for my birthday since I moved out, so it's not hard to miss,” she added to keep the air from turning more awkward than it already was as they ascended the stairs.

“Well, then we should change that,” he said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She glanced at him before her gaze went down to their hand. She couldn’t deny she liked holding his hand, though she couldn’t tell whether it was because she hadn’t had someone hold her hand like this since Patrick or because it was him doing it. Perhaps a combination of both.

Neither of them spoke until they were at the ground floor and headed out the entrance where Arin’s black Audi sat in all its sexy, pretentious glory. No matter the shit she would give him for owning this car, she couldn’t deny the appeal, and at least it wasn’t a Range Rover. 

“Hey, Jen?”

She hadn’t realized she’d been staring at the car so intently until she tore her eyes away. “Yeah?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, handing them out to her. “Don’t get another speeding ticket.”

They really had everything on those files. Jen couldn’t say she was proud of the five speeding tickets to her name, and that wasn’t even accounting for all the times she wasn’t caught or the officer was dumb enough to fall for the fake-crying. If he knew about the five speeding tickets, there was no way he would let her drive his shiny car. “Are you serious?” She didn’t take the keys.

There was a smirk on his lips when he nodded, the keys still offered out to her. “About you not getting a speeding ticket? Yeah.”

Jen narrowed her eyes just in case this was all a joke before taking the keys from him. When she realized he wasn’t going to pull out the real keys and tell her to get in the passenger’s side, she broke out into a smile and turned back to the car. “Alright, deal.”

“Follow the speed limit.” He let go of her hand then and walked to the driver’s side door before opening it for her.

Speed limits were just suggestions, but she wouldn’t tell him that and get her privileges rescinded. “Totally, totally.” She slid into the seat, letting herself get used to the leather for a moment even though it felt exactly the same in the passenger’s seat. She took the time to adjust what she needed to as Arin shut the door and walked around the car to get in next to her. When Jen adjusted her rearview mirror, she nearly had a heart attack seeing someone in the backseat before realizing it was just their bodyguard for the night. As promised, it was not Kevin.

“Everyone buckled in?” Arin once he was settled into his seat, and he pulled out his phone to plug it in.

Jen sighed but did as he asked, figuring it was a reasonable request if she was driving his car. “You gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

He shook his head, eyes glued to the phone as he pulled up something. “I don’t think I will.” He set his phone down in the center console and looked over to her.

“Sounds like a blatant abuse of power if you ask me.” Seeing everyone settled in, she shifted the gear into drive and gave them a slow start to leave. She hadn’t been out of the palace since their… interesting date at the observatory, and while she couldn’t say she was stir-crazy, she also appreciated a change of scenery. “Will you give me a hint?”

She kept her eyes on the road, but she could see him squirm a little bit in her peripheral vision. “You’re either going to love it or you’re going to hate it.”

There were few things she hated, but the ones she did she did with a passion. All the confession did was simply remind her how little they knew about each other in actuality. It was funny to think that way, but it was true. She knew little of him, and he knew little of her. She wasn’t entirely sure if she hoped it would remain that way. “Isn't that a bit of a risky move?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but what do I have to lose?”

She hummed, her eyes remaining on the road but her head somewhere else. “Perhaps my affection.” A risky move of her own.

“Yeah, right. You’re only saying that so there’s a chance I let you drive us back.”

She laughed, sitting her elbow on the armrest and probably getting way too comfortable in a car that wasn’t hers beside a man she wasn’t either, but even with the unknown ulterior motives and the fact that she had no idea why he was doing this, she couldn’t say she minded it.

The drive wasn’t a difficult one, just a bit more into the city, likely around Angeles University’s campus if the numerous restaurants and bars lining the streets were any indication. It was busy but probably not as much as it was during the school year when everyone was drinking away their sorrows right before Finals Week. There were a few parking spots around, but she waited until Arin told her one close enough to the place they were supposed to be going.

When she finally parked and killed the engine, she turned to him. “So what are we here as?” She needed to know if this was a public outing with Prince Arin and Selected Jen or whatever they were supposed to be.

“Well, I was planning on going as myself, and I thought you could be Jen,” he said clearly amused. “Unless that doesn’t work for you?”

It worked better than she knew. “No, that'll be fine,” she said, pressing her lips together. Jen and Arin. She kinda liked how it sounded.

She took the keys out of the engine and opened up the door, not waiting for Arin to follow as she got out, but he still met her on the pavement, the bodyguard following the both of them. “You may hate me for this but I’m hoping you won’t.”

“I feel like you vastly overestimate what I hate people for.” Just putting an effort in was enough. Just sending a note would’ve been more than enough, and even if whatever activity he had planned wasn’t quite her speed, she would’ve played along no matter what. 

Arin simply motioned for her to follow him, and she stuck close but not overly so, keeping a respectable distance between them. There was a storefront that was fairly busy, people congregating around the front of the store on the sidewalk, which only just made her think more about who exactly she was with. Arin was a pretty familiar face, but he was also plain enough to be mistaken for someone else if he played it well enough. 

When they got to the door, he opened it for her and whispered, “We can sit in the back.”

Jen didn’t realize what the place was until they stepped foot in the store and her eyes set upon the shelves upon shelves of books. Half of her prickled at the amount of people in the room, but, God, she loved books. She looked at him. “So a bookshop, huh?

“Looks like it.”

She raised her eyebrows as their eyes met again. “Now I'm kinda worried why you think I'll hate you.”

“Why?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pocket and looking genuinely worried.

“Because if we're doing something to these books, I'll end both you and your bodyguard.” She obviously knew it wasn’t, but he didn’t seem to be spilling, and she wanted answers.

He shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you but  _ that’s  _ on the agenda for next week. Tonight we’re just going to listen.” He motioned his head over to the rows of chairs lined up to face the back of the store, and she followed him to the back row as promised.

She settled into her seat with Arin to her left and Not Kevin sitting next to him. It was obvious they were waiting on  _ someone _ since there was a table set up, as well as a small podium in the front, so they were definitely expecting a speaker. “So I think I can gather we're here because of books.”

“Excellent deductive reasoning skills—Too bad I forgot my gold stars at home.”

She turned to him, narrowing her eyes at the unnecessary sass. “I expect to receive a gold star upon our arrival back.”

His eyebrows raised in that way he did when she just knew he was trying to get on her nerves. “And what if I just made up the gold stars, and I don’t actually have any?”

She returned her eyes to the front of the room, staring forward as she said, “Guess you'll have to find another way to tell me I'm good.”

She didn’t have time to see him react before a woman walked up to the podium, likely the speaker for the night, though she wouldn’t focus on whether that was a good or bad thing and try to figure out exactly why Arin Schreave brought her here on her birthday.

The woman up front introduced herself as Laura Dawson, author of the recently-published book  _ And Her Number, _ which she described as an insightful look into the lives of eight different women and how the castes have affected them. After that, it was obvious why Arin brought her here, though she wasn’t sure he would sit through a lecture like this he couldn’t have been interested in.

Jen had never heard of the author before, but as Dawson began reading a section of her book to the room, she wished she had. She’d definitely read about perspectives on caste disparity many times in her life, but it was usually through a male perspective and never spoke on the caste disparity among women, which she hadn’t realized she’d never thought about before.

A few minutes in, Arin took her hand into his without a glance, but she didn’t mind it. Even if they were in public and anyone could see, it was still nice to not feel alone. She squeezed his hand.

He didn’t look over at her at all when the author was speaking, trained forward, and seeming to listen like he was actually interested in the points she was making. The thought that maybe he actually didn’t occur to her until much later in the event when the author opened the floor for questions, and he still kept listening. It was unexpected, but she definitely couldn’t say she minded it.

Jen sat quietly through the questions, knowing she wouldn’t ask any even if she wanted to, too worried to draw attention to them that she kept quiet, and instead opted to rub her thumb over the back of his hand for whatever reason her brain come up with. 

At some point during the end of the questions, he leaned over to her and whispered, “Do you want a copy?”

Some part of her wanted to refuse him buying anything for her, but it was her birthday, and she figured she would offer the same to him if it were his. “I won't say no to that,” she whispered back, still keeping her eyes forward as the author spoke.

The talk ended before she was ready, the crowd erupting into applause and immediately going into the book-signing portion of the night. Instead of standing like the others rushing to the line, Arin stayed put in his seat, his hand still holding hers. “Let’s hold off a minute.”

She doesn’t argue, figuring it was better like this. The fewer people here, the less attention they would draw together. She leaned back further into the seat, getting a bit more comfortable and letting her shoulder brush his, even if inadvertently, and glanced at him, a small smile on her lips. “And why did you think I would hate that?”

His mouth twitched like he was trying to hold back a smile. “Because there are so many other things we could have done for your birthday instead and I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about being stuck in a room with me.”

She couldn’t recall ever protesting to being in the same room with him, but she couldn’t help but smile at how conscious he sounded over the idea that she might have concessions over spending time with him. Even when they weren’t close, she hadn’t minded. Not that they were really that close now, but it was definitely closer than before the night in the kitchen. “Why wouldn't I want to be stuck in a room with you?”

“Stranger danger,” he said, glancing over to the line again, and she followed his gaze for a moment before looking back to him.

“I wouldn’t exactly call you a stranger anymore.” She couldn’t say she knew much about him, but they were still something more than that. 

He looked back to her then, so close to her now. “What  _ would _ you call me?”

She hummed. “Well, I feel like we're beyond Prince and Selected,” she told him as she thought back to the way he held her in the kitchen that night, the way his gaze was soft when he stared down at her. “But you're also not my boyfriend, so maybe…” She looked at him then. “Friend?”

“Friend is good,” he said immediately, looking a little more awkward than he had before. “Friend is great.” 

He looked back to the line, and her gaze followed his, but there was a smile on her lips when she did. “Good. Then we’re friends.”

“Friends,” he repeated and then went silent.

There were still a good amount of people in line, so they would still need a few minutes, but it was moving fast. Either way, she was content with sitting in a bookstore after a talk about women’s rights with an actual prince. She could think of worse ways to spend her birthday.

She spared him a quick glance, removing her gaze from the line, and found him staring at her. “What?”

His eyes immediately shifted back to the line. “Nothing.”

“You’re not supposed to lie to friends, Arin.” Her voice was more teasing than anything, but she really did want to know.

“I didn’t lie,” he definitely lied and tried to buy her silence by rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. It almost worked.

Instead of giving in, she sighed dramatically, so loud that if the multitudes of people weren’t chattering around them anyone within six feet would’ve heard. “On my birthday too.”

“Technically it's not still your birthday in New Asia, where you were born.”

She raised her eyebrows at that only because it was that moment she finally got him. “Actually, I was born in Waverly.”

The brief glimpse of panic behind his eyes was more than a little amusing. “You passed the test.”

She rolled her eyes at the excuse, not sure whether he actually thought she would fall for it. “Glad to see those files aren't coming in handy anymore.” It was nice to relay some form of her own information to him, even one as simple as her place of birth.

“Or maybe they are and I just want to throw you off,” he said after leaning toward her face, voice lowering into a whisper.

She also leaned over and matched his tone. “Or maybe your memorization isn't as quite as good as you think.”

Arin didn’t reply right away, his eyes on hers with that same small smile on his face, but somehow it felt different. It took Jen a few seconds to realize how close they were to each other, how it was just as close as in the kitchen, but this time no one was crying and no one was having a mental breakdown and there were no burnt snickerdoodles.

Her first thought was that she wanted to kiss him. 

She wasn’t sure where it came from or why it showed up right then, but Jen knew some part of her felt that way in the kitchen too. It would’ve been easy to just lean over right then and do it, and some part of her imagined he would be okay with it too, but that feeling didn’t last.

_ Do you really think that prince will ever care about you the way I do? _

She pulled away.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but he didn’t say anything that meant she had to, so she sat there instead, close but not overly so, and tried to push Ian’s words away again. This was supposed to be her night, and he was most definitely not welcome.

After a few minutes, Arin spoke into their silence that it was their turn, and they both stood to head toward the table. Arin grabbed a book from one of the displays near where Laura Dawson sat and set it down onto the table, his gaze averted. “We were hoping you could sign this for us.”

Jen almost laughed at the look she gave him, probably pretty reasonably surprised the prince of Illéa had shown up to her book event, but Arin didn’t seem to pay much mind to it, just pulled out a small wallet from one of his back pockets and inclined his head toward the table. “Jen.”

She took a step toward Laura, smiling a bit sheepishly as she looked down at her. She’d been to book signings before, but never with a prince, so this was an experience already. “It was really nice hearing you speak. You made a lot of points that I'd never considered before.”

Laura’s eyes finally tore away from Arin and went to Jen, some of the shock leaving her face but not completely. “I… thank you.” Her eyes went back to Arin, who didn’t pay her any mind as he paid the store employee set up on the opposite side of the table.

At the shock in her voice, she had to suppress a smile as she leaned forward. “He enjoyed it too,” she said quietly, glancing over at him.

Jen could tell she absolutely balked at the statement, but she kept it on the inside as well as she seemed to be able to. “You’ve read my book?”

She let herself smile then. The poor woman was so well-spoken until Arin showed up, and of course, he made her like this. “I didn't know about it until he brought me here, but I will. Promise.”

“Would you like me to sign your book for you?” Laura asked after a nod, finally looking as collected as she had been earlier in the night. As she spoke, Arin moved behind Jen.

“I would love if you would,” she answered, giving her a small smile before turning her head to look at Arin and give him a look. He simply shrugged his shoulders and mouthed  _ What? _ with a smile already on his lips.

Laura, whose eyes flickered away from them the moment Jen turned back around, already had the book open, pen poised above the page, ready to sign. “Who should I make it out to?”

Jen glanced back at Arin, and that was all it took for her to know exactly the name she wanted to use. “Make it out to ‘Bombus,’ please.”

She didn’t catch Arin’s reaction, but she wished she had. Instead, she could see the slight nose wrinkle Laura gave, but she didn’t argue as she signed the book as requested and slid it back to her.

_ To Bombus,  _ _  
_ _ May you find new understanding. _ _  
_ _ L. D. _

When Jen took the back, she immediately slid her thumb over the signature on the page for a moment before looking back up at Laura. “Thank you very much.” With that, she shut the book, pressed it to her chest, and turned back to Arin, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

He was biting his lip when she turned around, looking down at her with some kind of look. “Onto the next adventure of the night, birthday girl?”

She took a step toward him, trying to ignore exactly how much she liked that name for her. “There’s more?”

“Of course,” he said as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, if you'll let me buy you a drink. But you can say no if you're ready to go home.”

She hummed for a moment, pretending to think about it. “Only if you don't leave me passed out on the floor.”

He also hummed, as if it was really something he wasn’t sure about, before giving her a reluctant nod. “That's a big ask but I guess I can make it work.”

She shifted her book to her opposite arm and let herself stand just a bit closer as she turned to the door. “Alright then, you've got a deal.”

He nodded toward the exit. “Then let's go, Birthday Bombus. We've got the whole night ahead of us.”

Even if she rolled her eyes at the nickname, she still followed and ignored the fond feeling in her chest.

  
  


Arin was the one who drove them to their next destination, but she didn’t entirely mind, content with sitting in the front and staring down at the signature of her new book that she was definitely planning on reading as soon as they got back home.  _ The palace, _ she had to correct internally because even if she had no idea where home was anymore, it couldn’t be there.

Their destination was even closer to campus, so it didn’t long for Arin to pull into a parking spot in a little shopping strip that was still busy enough for the middle of summer on a Tuesday. “Reminds me of a place back home,” she said as she stared at the window. New Haven was definitely a college town and delivered on its amount of bars and student-centered shopping, and she’d only been nearly mugged twice.

When he looked back over at her, he didn’t even seem to realize what she said for a moment until he snapped out of whatever reverie he’d been in. “Somehow it seems all college places are the same pretty much.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “Lead the way, Dreamsicle.”

He didn’t hesitate in leaning over to undo his seatbelt and opening his door to get out, so she followed him and walked up to where he waited on the sidewalk at the front end of the car. She had to take a pause, though, the moment she saw his face, and something was just… off. She couldn’t describe exactly what it was, but it was something. That much was true. “Is something wrong?”

Arin looked down at her before blinking a few times, only furthering her suspicions. “It's nothing.”

_ It’s nothing. _ Not just  _ nothing. _ Even after the night in the kitchen, Jen couldn’t expect him to want to share everything, but some part of her still wished he would. “You can tell me,” she said as she set a hand on his arm. He’d reacted well to it last time. “You don't have to, but you can.”

He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. “Tonight’s not about me.”

She watched as his eyes fell to her hand on his arm, but he didn’t move to jerk away, so her hand remained. “I'm content with crying on the kitchen floor at three in the morning just as much as I am talking in a bar.” She smiled as she trailed her hand on his arm down to his hand. “Just so you know.”

He gave her a squeeze, a soft smile on his lips, much more genuine than the one he had before. “There's no crying on birthdays. No matter what.”

He sounded better. Maybe not normal, but it was some progress, and that was all she could really ask for. “Just don't give me a reason.” She nodded her head to the bar that was just a few store shops down from where they were parked. “You wanna go in?”

“I’ll try not to.” He gave her hand a little tug to start walking, and she followed him the few doors down to the bar. 

The place wasn’t unique in and of itself, just a modest little joint with music playing audibly but not deafening, and there were a decent amount of people their age around, who definitely weren’t paying attention to them. “Do you get recognized often?” she asked as they headed further in. A glance behind her showed Not Kevin sticking fairly close. 

“Not making a big fuss about it on my own part seems to help,” he answered, chuckling a bit. “But also we're in a room full of possibly drunk 20-something-year-olds.” He gave her a glance as they headed into the furthest part of the bar. “And I always stick to corners.”

Even as her eyes glanced over multiple people, nobody cared to notice them, too focused on themselves and their friends. “Corners sound great to me.”

Not Kevin only followed them until they arrived at a booth nestled in, as promised, a corner before leaving them be to take a seat close enough to keep tabs but not so close to hear. Arin slid into the seat facing away from where his face would be visible, so she slid opposite of him, figuring it was definitely better this way. Most people may not have paid attention to a random couple entering a bar on a Tuesday night, but there were always the tabloid-obsessed ones around she was sure.

Even so, it was nice to see the small groups of friends dancing together, badly but happy enough to not care. She’d definitely done plenty of that in undergrad. “It's been a while since I've been somewhere like this. Forgot what it was like to be young.”

Arin’s foot tapped her under the table, though it was up for debate whether it was an accident or intentional. He let out a dramatic sigh, as if he completely sympathized with her. “It must be so hard being an old maid. At 24, your options are just so limited.”

“They really are. All the marriageable men are taken, I'm afraid. I don't know what else I'll do.”

He clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on the table like a  _ heathen. _ “I can keep an eye out if you like. Let you know if I find one.”

She can’t help the smile threatening her lips, only because her head said it didn’t mind this one so much. “How would I ever repay you for such a deed?”

He leaned forward a bit as he thought and after a pause said, “You can tell me what your birthday wish is.”

It was the truth, mostly. Her birthday wish was to have a quiet day watching Gossip Girl, but she wasn’t going to reject someone actually wanting to take her out, especially after receiving the texts she just had.

“Well, you better start thinking. Because that's all I want as repayment.” 

She wasn’t sure if she was crazy or not, but she was fairly certain his eyes took at least a glance at her lips. She made herself force that thought away, instead leaning back and crossing her arms. “Fine. I'll think on it and let you know later.”

“Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Not Kevin, who was… doing nothing as expected, before returning his gaze to her. “So what are you having to drink?”

She tried to think back to the drinks she liked to drink during those first few years of college but came up blank. Alcohol had been pretty much off her radar over the past year except for the occasional glass of wine Deirdre insisted she try or something to calm nerves from Ian or those lovely, awful glasses of scotch Arin liked to drink. “Why don't you surprise me? See if you can figure out what I like.” She really wasn’t sure if alcohol preference could be guessed on personality alone, but it was as good as she was going to get.

Arin gave her a nod before sliding out of the booth and going up to the bar, leaving her alone. Jen mostly sat there and watched him at the bar, not bothering to look away each time he looked back at her. She was glad she didn’t have her phone on her now that she actually had an excuse to look. Whatever Ian was sending her could wait. Possibly forever.

Arin came back within a few minutes and set two glasses in each of their respective spots. “For the birthday girl.”

Jen didn’t hesitate in grabbing hers, staring down into the tinted glass to see if she could recognize it, but her alcohol recognition had never been very good. Gingerly, she took a sip and, surprisingly, didn’t wince. “Not too bad. If I had a gold star, I would also give you one.”

He laughed at that and slid back into his side of the booth. “That good, huh?” he asked as he raised his glass up.

She hummed her agreement and did the same. “Last time we toasted to trainwrecks. What'll it be this time around?”

“How about to that birthday wish of yours that I’m still waiting on?”

“Still thinking.” She smiled. “I hear princes only grant one wish. Gotta make it good.”

“You’re thinking of genies and it’s three.”

“You can't fool me with genie subversion.” She nodded to their raised glasses. “C'mon, what'll it be, Your Highness?”

He reached forward and clinked his glass to hers. “To friends.”

“To friends,” she repeated with a smile before pulling her glass away to drink. When she set down her drink, her gaze returned to his. “So what's supposed to happen now?”

He took a sip of his drink but didn’t set it down quite yet as he looked at her. “Whatever you want.” 

There was almost a mysterious quality to the way he was staring, one that she couldn’t quite identify. She narrowed her eyes. “We could... talk about the book signing.”

He took another drink before finally setting his glass down on the table. “Which part?”

She wasn’t entirely sure what she expected his answer to be. There had to have been some level of interest on his part for him to know about the book signing and think it was something Jen would enjoy, but that didn’t mean he actually liked what the author was saying. For all she knew, he was staking out enemies. “Did you… agree?”

He leaned back in his seat while she talked with his eyes on her before he leaned forward to smile down into his drink. “For the most part, I did, yeah.” He looked back up at her. She hoped he couldn’t read the expression she was giving him, whatever it was. “Did you?”

She took another drink, also leaning back a little as she thought. “Yeah, I did. She made a lot of good points.”

“Any bad points?”

The author spoke succinctly about her points, and she couldn’t think of any that she would disagree with, though that could eventually be changed by reading the entire book. Still, she couldn’t make herself seem easily swayed. “That maybe the author should try and deal with celebrity fans a bit better. I thought she would have a heart attack from seeing you there,” she said right before lifting up her glass to take a drink as Arin was doing the same.

When she finished her statement, Arin made a noise that almost sounded like a laugh except it was immediately followed by a choking noise, which caused his leg to ram into hers harder than it did earlier and made her grip on the glass slip. Jen managed to save the glass, but a good amount of the drink spilled out onto both the table and her lap, and she could only gasp as she shot out of the booth.

“Sorry!” Arin blurted out as he stood as well, handing her a handful of paper towels that were piled in the basket at the edge of the table closest to the wall before grabbing another few to mop up the mess on the table. After a moment, he looked up at her and pointed to a doorway not too far from where she was standing. “That’s the bathroom over there. Just make sure to twist the lock all the way.”

She looked over at him as she soaked up the drink from her lap. “You know from experience?” His eyes were a mix of something she couldn’t recognize, and at the lack of answer, she just rolled her eyes and headed out to get cleaned up. 

There wasn’t a line for the single bathroom the place had, and a loud knock proved it empty, so Jen entered and followed the advice to lock the door all the way, making sure there was a clicking noise. The place was grimy, but not the worst she’d been in, the vague smell of bleach a small comfort, at least. She took several paper towels from the dispenser and wetted them on the sink before pressing them to the wetted area, hoping whatever was in the drink wasn’t too sticky. Thank God for black pants.

After throwing the wetted paper towels away and replacing them with a few dry ones, Jen caught a glimpse of herself in the streaked mirror. Nothing was really different, per sé, but she was still smiling. There was a flush in her cheeks, and she didn’t think it was the alcohol. Her heart was racing, even still. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.

Somewhere through all of this, some part of her began to want him, as stupid as it was. It wasn’t supposed to work out like this. She was supposed to think he was an asshole, not even be friends with him or give him a second look. Their energies fed off each other. Whenever he was happy, she found herself that way too. Whenever she got angry, she would find a way to drag him down with her. An explosiveness of sorts. A dangerous pairing.

Still, she thought back to the way he was looking at her in the bookshop right before she’d almost kissed him. He was an asshole sometimes, but so was she. Arin had still wiped away her tears and sat and held her in the kitchen at three in the morning when he could’ve run to anyone. He’d still taken her out for her birthday when he didn’t have to.

Ian was still a voice in her head, and she heard him every single day. She could hear him then too.

_ Do you really think that prince will ever care about you the way I do? _

Ian had taken her out last year, though they hadn’t been seeing each other then.

_ “For my favorite law student.” _

She’d ignored the brush of his leg against hers, kept quiet like she always did. When his touch would linger just a little too long during hugs. When he would invite her over to drink without telling her Georgia wouldn’t be home. She hadn’t suspected a single thing might’ve been wrong. She’d gotten into Yale but still couldn’t see the signs that had been in front of her the whole time.

At least now she knew. His voice in her head didn’t matter anymore.

If she wanted to kiss him, Ian couldn’t stop her.

Jen returned to the table to find Arin already looking for her and looking more concerned than he ought to be. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “You have successfully not ruined my birthday, so don't worry,” she said as she slipped into her seat. The booth was still sticky, but types in this place always were. He’d replaced her drink, at least.

“Darn, you caught me. I figured if I ruined this year’s then I could just have a do-over next year. I already had my eye on some tickets for a NedTalk on dismantling the monarchy.”

A poor attempt at humor, but she was in a good mood, so she laughed anyway. “So you were already plotting for next year, huh? Maybe I should let you ruin it then.” The idea of being in the palace for another year like this was exhausting, and that was her just existing. She wasn’t sure how he could manage this weird form of dating for another year.

He tugged on his shirt collar as he matched his gaze to hers. She tried to ignore how much she liked the sight. “The night is still relatively young. I’m sure I can find better ways to do it.”

“And what would your suggestions be?”

There was a hint of a grin on his face when he said, “AU has a 24-hour library.”

AU, possibly her least favorite school ever, yet the idea of going wasn’t in the realm of the most terrible activities she could think of. After all, a library was a library, and she did love libraries. “I'll be expecting much ruined at this 24-hour library.”

“I hope you hate books on Ornithology and marine life,” he said, his voice a little lower than it was before.

“Absolutely loathe them.”

“Then it’s settled. I won’t be granting any birthday wishes tonight so you can keep them all to yourself.”

She scoffed as he looked down at his drink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled. “Aren’t I supposed to ruin your birthday?”

“Didn't realize you wanted to keep me around so badly.” Even if some part of her really did like the idea of that.

“It was in that contract you signed,” he said as he took a sip of his drink. “There’s a clause that says if you end up on the kitchen floor with the prince he’s entitled to ruin your birthday.”

Even if it was obvious he remembered, she hadn’t entirely suspected he would bring it up directly, but it was nice to know he was still okay with it, didn’t want to just forget. “I must've overlooked it during my read-through.” The read-through in which she’d highlighted every questionable piece of information and kept that poor woman hours after for the principle of it. “I'm a failure as a lawyer even before I graduate.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “You’re really good at holding hands.”

She couldn’t help the flush that immediately spread to her cheeks from the statement as her brain began its malfunction because that was most definitely not what she thought he was going to say. There were so many directions she could take in her reply, and he seemed to enjoy it when she was a smartass, but it just felt… wrong somehow. “You're not too bad yourself.”

“Thanks,” he said, though it sounded more like a question.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled down into her drink at how awkward he sounded, but she wouldn’t comment on it. “What did you get?”

“Oh, a Shirley Temple. Same as you.” He lifted the glass and shook it enough for the rattling of ice to be heard.

He wasn’t downing it, at least. She’d noticed his drinking already, and she supposed the glasses of scotch could’ve been passed off as casual drinking, but she had a feeling it wasn’t just that.  _ It helps me sleep, _ he’d told her that night in the kitchen. “You mentioned you drank to help you sleep,” she said, still hesitating a little. This night had been nice, and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin it with prodding. “How long has that been going on?”

He visibly stiffened from the question, and she immediately felt like she’d made a mistake in asking. “I actually got a full eight hours the other night—ten in fact.”

He hadn’t answered the question, but it was something. “Was that on your own or with aid?”

“In between.”

Once upon a time, Jen might’ve pressed on, but she couldn’t allow herself to. She doubted Arin wanted a commentary of her opinions about his life, even if it was in good spirits, so she would give him what she could instead. “I don't sleep much either.”

“Is that why you were in the kitchen that night?” he asked, looking a lot more at ease than before. She wasn’t sure whether it was because the topic was off him or because of the memory of them on the kitchen floor, but she liked to think it was the latter.

She gave a nod, smiling a bit as she remembered the way his arms felt around her. “That, and I really did want Cheetos.”

“That’s all?”

She shrugged, not really sure what else there would be. “That’s all I went in for.” She glanced down at her glass before returning to his eyes, still smiling. “Guess I came out with you instead.”

His leg brushed hers under the table, and she watched the way he looked down at his glass. “Thank you for being my friend.”

She shifted just slightly to press her leg against his, hoping it was alright. “It was... unexpected to say the least, but I think I might like talking to you.”

“Yeah, because it distracts me while you steal my food.” He shifted his leg again, and that was when she realized they were definitely playing footsies. She hadn’t done this since high school.

She spared a glance down at the table, still keeping her leg pressed into his. “Maybe I like both.”

“Or maybe you just like driving my car.”

She rolled her eyes at his lack of acceptance of her compliment. “I  _ do _ like driving your car, even if it’s pretentious.”

“That didn’t seem to be a problem just a bit ago.” His leg rubbed against her again. She couldn’t help her breath catching again as her eyes went to the table like she could will herself to see through it. 

“Not a problem. Maybe that's the appeal.” 

Her eyes went to his again, but she couldn’t read the emotions behind them this time, couldn’t even try to. They were just… unreadable. She shifted her leg again, this time a little less pointedly. “Everything alright?”

He snapped out of whatever thoughts he was having and leaned back in the booth. “I’m fine. Are you?”

She copied his movements again, leaning back into the booth with just another slight shift of her leg against his. She was sure the small smile on her lips gave it away that she knew exactly what she was doing. “I’m great.”

Arin shifted again and let out a shaky breath, and that was the moment she figured that he may not have been as okay with this as she originally thought he was, so she pulled her leg away and lifted her glass up again to drink. “Sorry. Must be the alcohol. Told you I'm a lightweight.”

He laughed. She hated how much she liked hearing it too. “Actually, there’s no alcohol in that.” He nodded to her glass. “Not even in mine.”

_ Shit. _ This whole time she was thinking that there was at least some alcohol in her system. Her drink identification was never very good, so, really, it wasn’t that surprising, but of course, it had to happen in front of  _ him. _ “Very, very lightweight.”

“Are  _ you _ okay?” The question sounded like a joke, but the look on his face proved he actually did want to know. It wasn’t like she had much to lose by telling.

“Right now, yeah.” She gave him a small nod as she took another drink, leaning forward a bit more to match his stance. “Might get a different answer tomorrow.”

“And what if tomorrow didn’t have to be a different answer?” He glanced at his watch, that stupid, silver Rolex or whatever brand of watch princes wore these days. Apparently, he did know how to use it. “We still have a few more hours. We can go to the library or do whatever else you want. Birthday Girl’s pick.”

God, that fucking name. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Surely you've got better things to do than spending the night with me.”

“I’ll avoid you tomorrow night, deal?”

She leaned a bit further forward, her eyes not wavering from his. “What if I don't want you to avoid me?”

“I’d ask you why not.” He doesn’t break their little staring match either.

Jen tried to ignore the way her heart sped up again. The voice in her head tried to speak again, but she pushed it away. “Does it sound crazy if I say I kinda like you?”

He broke his gaze away from her to glance down at her glass before returning. “Aren’t you supposed to like your friends?”

She huffed a little laugh. “Not crazy then. That's all I needed to know.”

He moved her glass away like he was afraid she was going to spill it again. “And all I need to know right now is what you want to do.”

“Maybe library another night,” she answered. “I still have four episodes to watch before midnight.” Libraries were always there, but her birthday tradition wasn’t. And maybe a part of her wanted to invite him to watch too.

“You still can’t go over the speed limit.” He leaned all the way back again before checking over his shoulder at Not Kevin, who remained exactly where he had been.

Her eyes returning to his gaze again, she swallowed down whatever nervousness had built up in her gut and said what immediately came to mind. “Maybe you should let your bodyguard worry about that and sit in the back with me.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t want to drive?”

At his confusion, she had to suppress a smile. She really didn’t want to have to explain. “Just this once.”

“We can talk in the front seat just as well,” he said, tilting his head.

She let a little smile crack then. “But you won't let me hold your hand in the front seat, so where does that leave me?” She leaned forward a little again and mouthed  _ backseat. _

“You know what’s more pretentious than my car? Me sitting in the back while someone else drives.”

_ God, _ did he have to make everything this hard? “What if it's my birthday wish?”

“I thought I was supposed to ruin her birthday.”

Jen would’ve thought he was just being a dick, but the look on his face was genuine confusion. She could only just give him a look that encompassed her emotions as well as possible—a combination of annoyance, begging, and exasperation—before he finally relented.

“Okay, fine, I guess.”

She sighed and picked up her glass, downing as much as she could in one glass before she set it on the table. “You don't have to if you don't want to.” He’d definitely made it clear by now he wasn’t interested in it. There was no reason to keep trying.

He didn’t answer for a moment, just watching, before he tapped her leg with his foot. “I can do it.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes, just kept sipping the glass. “No, it’s fine.”

The voice crept in again, just prodding at her brain, but she couldn’t let it back in. She couldn’t.

“Jen?” He tapped her leg again.

_ Jennie. _

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

_ “It’s okay.” _

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” Another tap from his leg, softer this time.

Jen almost lashed out again just like in the library, but she remembered how awful she’d felt after, how he’d retracted from her when all she wanted was for him to stay. She couldn’t do that again, so with that thought in mind and her heart pounding in her chest, she spoke. “I wanted you to hold me like you did in the kitchen, but it's fine if you don't want to, and I can still drive if you're okay with that because I do like driving your car.” She took a drink from her glass, and, for the first time that night, wished it was actually spiked. “There.”

He looked taken aback. She retreated a little further into her seat. “Oh.”

She pressed her lips together, trying not to think about the growing pit in her stomach. “Sorry, but I assumed you wanted honesty.

“I do…” He trailed off and took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go.”

That was it? Nothing? Not even a  _ Sorry, I can’t? _ She forced herself to nod. “Alright.”

It wasn’t her first time being rejected by any means, so why did it hurt as much as it did?

He lifted his glass again to drink, so she did as well, downing as much as she could, even if it didn’t do much for her head. Being drunk would’ve been easier right around now. She followed him out of the booth, ready to head out, but before they started walking, he held out his hand for her to take.

Jen knew she stared for a good few uncomfortable seconds, but she still considered it a reasonable response for what he’d just done—or, she supposed, hadn’t done. And she might’ve rejected the offer except she really did like holding his hand, and if that was all she could get, then maybe she could live with it.

She slipped her hand into his. She hoped he didn’t notice the stiffness.

They left the bar and began the short walk to the car without speaking, Jen trailing behind just a little because she didn’t want him to see her face and whatever emotions were betraying her. When they arrived at the pavement in front of the car, Arin turned to her. “Front or back, Bee?”

She hoped she didn’t look too excited by the question, but she hadn’t expected him to change his mind. Not to mention the nickname, but she didn’t have the mental capacity to add that to her things to think about quite yet. “You're not gonna be worried about how pretentious you are in the back?”

He gave her the smallest smile. “I can just close my eyes.”

“I’m sure that’ll help you.” She didn’t answer him immediately and instead walked over to the passenger door of the front, opening it up to grab her book from the seat and slamming the door back in place. She took a step toward the back door. “Are you coming?”

He blinked once but nodded. That was all she needed. “Coming.”

Jen slid into the seat behind where Not Kevin was also getting in behind the wheel and watched as Arin slid into the seat next to her. Her heart was beating faster than it had any right to since in that moment she also realized that she had no idea really what she wanted now. She still wanted him to hold her, of course, but everything else? Kissing him? She still had no idea if she could do it, even if she wanted to.

She realized he was staring at her after a longer period than she probably should have. “What?” It only took her another second to realize exactly  _ why _ he was staring. Him and his fucking seatbelts. “I am 24 years old.”

He tilted his head like a smartass. “So you should know the first rule of getting in a car by now.”

She almost fought him, but it was his car, and she’d done enough to get him to sit back with her in the first place, so she figured she could give him this one thing. She fastened her seat belt and looked at him. “Happy?”

“Thrilled.” 

He looked forward and closed his eyes, and it took her longer than it should’ve to realize what he was doing. “Are you really going to close your eyes the whole time?”

He nodded. “Yes, really. I have to keep my word.” He began patting around the seat, reaching over a bit to meet the book in her lap with a quiet  _ thud _ before reaching lower to meet her thigh, only a small tap, but she could still feel his fingers. She could feel his fingers.

_ “Jen, it’s not because I’m difficult. It’s because I want to be the hardest thing you have to face from this point on.” His hand slips onto her thigh. The first time. She tries not to let her breath catch. “Don’t disappoint me.” _

_ He knows what he’s doing, fingers squeezing in what she supposed was supposed to be out of comfort, but it’s venturing too close to where both of them know it shouldn’t. She opens her mouth. Nothing comes out. He pulls her chair closer. _

_ “Did you hear what I said?” _

“Jen?” Arin. It was Arin.

_ Her eyes glance up from his hand on her thigh to his face, the one she’s grown so familiar with, the one she’s found comfort in numerous times. This isn’t one of them. Had she? What was happening? “Yes. I did.” _

“Yeah?” It took everything just to speak, almost all words seeming to die in her throat.

His eyes were open when he looked at her again. She liked his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

_ “It’s okay,” he says, that smile still on his lips. _

His hand was at his side. He’d already removed his hand. She wanted his hand. She hadn’t wanted his, but Arin wasn’t Ian. He wasn’t.

She took his hand and entwined her fingers with his before setting their conjoined hands back on her thigh. He wasn’t touching, but he was there, and she wanted him there. It was okay. “I'd rather not talk about it yet.” Yet. Maybe someday. Just maybe.

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear the breath he released, and she knew he wasn’t looking at her. “Okay.”

Jen pushed away the feeling that she’d somehow ruined things and opened her book instead, brushing her free fingers over the signature once again with fondness.  _ Bombus. _ She would never tell him how much she liked that name. She began reading the author’s introduction next, but her brain couldn’t seem to focus on the words with the unnerving quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine.

“Thank you,” she eventually spoke into the silence, looking at him. “For taking me out, I mean.” 

He was staring out the window until he moved his head to look at her. “Of course.” He looked back away.

She noticed his detachment but didn’t comment on it, hoping it would fade away as those feelings tended to during awkward situations. Instead, she offered a small smile and a subject change. “Are we considering my birthday ruined?”

“I hope not,” he murmured, too serious. He pressed his forehead against the glass of the window.

Her heart began racing again, but this time it wasn’t because she wanted to kiss him.

She let go of his hand.

“I'm sorry if I did something wrong.”

She hated apologizing, but he liked it when she did.

He straightened from the window and turned to her. “What would you have done wrong?” He muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear.

She couldn’t hear much of anything.

She clutched the book a little tighter and kept staring down at the words like they were some kind of life raft to keep her from sinking. “I don't know. You just don't look at me.”

_ They show you on camera sometimes, babygirl. You don’t look very happy. _

“I’m looking at you right now, aren’t I?”

She didn’t glance up. “Are you?”

_ Do you really think that prince will ever care about you the way I do? _

“Yes, and I can see that you’re ready to be out of this car with me so you can get in bed and watch your show.”

_ He won’t, Jennie. Stop wasting your time. _

She looked up at him then, every bit of pent up anger flooding her body at once. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

_ I’m the best you’ll ever get. _

“Excuse me?”

_ No one will ever love you the way I do. _

“All I wanted was reassurance and to be held in the backseat of a fucking car, and you just—” She cut herself off, her emotions finally getting the better of her with supplying a choke. She just had to get through a car ride.  _ Do you think he wants to put up with your shit? _ “Forget it. It's fine.”

“Clearly it isn’t fine.” A pause. “All I wanted was a nice night.”

_ He doesn’t. He never will. _

She let out a shaky breath as the first stupid tears began to fall because she couldn’t just last one fucking car ride before breaking down again. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

And she could feel his eyes on her as she cried, silent tears falling to mar the brand new pages of the book he probably already regretted buying her. She could pay him back. “You didn’t,” he said. “I disappointed myself.”

They were close to the palace now.

She tried to breathe but choked instead. “What do you even have to be disappointed about?”

He hadn’t done anything. Not a single thing.

“I don’t want to do this with you, Jen.”

“Do what? Fucking talk to me?” He didn’t want to. “He never talked to me either.”

“What do you want me to say?” She couldn’t help but wince away from his voice, tears still uncontrollable. “‘I’m not ready’ or ‘Whatever you’re looking for I can’t give you?’”

She didn’t speak as they approached the palace, so soon, so blessedly soon. 

_ Do you really think that prince will ever care about you the way I do? _

She hated to think that Ian was right. He was right. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but Arin couldn’t give it to her.

“I just… wanted a friend.”

He didn’t respond.

She could only stare down at the tear-stained page and be glad she hadn’t kissed him in the bookstore.

She didn’t give him time to say anything once they pulled up front, opening her door and darting out before the car had even parked. It was late enough that there weren’t many in the halls, and the bit of staff that were still at work paid no attention to the girl running in the halls with her head down. No one cared. 

It was her birthday.

The moment her door shut behind her, she barely made it to her bed before breaking down again, still clutching the book. The book he’d bought her. The book that had his stupid nickname for her written in black ink, forever marring the page.

She threw it before she really thought about it, the hard cover hitting the floor much louder than she thought it would’ve been. She couldn’t find it in herself to care. She threw a pillow. And another. Her phone laid in the middle of her bed. She didn’t throw it. She wished she had.

More messages. More from him.

She knew she shouldn’t have opened them, but she did.

_ I’ll wait for you for however long I have to. _

_ You know how much you mean to me. _

_ Think about everything we’ve been through. _

_ I know things are difficult. I know you’re mad at me. _

_ Whatever your feelings, we can work through them. _

_ You know deep down I’m it for you, Jennie. _

_ I’m the one you think about at night. _

_ I’m the one you want.  _

_ I’m the one you miss. _

_ Don’t make any more mistakes. _

She stared down at the messages, her breathing still ragged from crying. Above the messages, the call button stared back. So easy. It would’ve been so easy to take him back.

She glanced to her left. On the nightstand was that package, the one Idalia had sent. The only other gift she’d received that day. It stared back at her like a challenge, like she had to consult it before doing anything brash. She took it into her lap and tore it open.

Of all the things for Idalia to get her, Jen hadn’t expected a shot glass.  _ Justice, Noun. _ it read on the front.  _ A commodity which is a more or less adulterated condition the State sells to the citizen as a reward for his allegiance, taxes, and personal service. _

She almost laughed, but she spotted the folded up piece of paper inside the package. She opened it. 

_ HAPPY BDAY, J!! _

_ <3 you’re so old. I hope you’re having a lovely morning. Unless you waited to read this until later and it’s no longer morning, which I wouldn’t put past you. In that case, hope you had a good day. DECENT if you don’t want to call it good. _

_ I figure you don’t really care much for birthdays since you never brought yours up, but indulge me. I think they’re pretty okay, ignoring any identity crisis they may bring. It’s another year of being around. Pretty impressive in my opinion. You’ve done it twenty-four times already.  _

_ You should put that on your resume.  _

_ Anyhow, I hope this upcoming year is better than the last!  _

_ Maybe with more smiles. Fewer regrets. One less year of law school. _

_ The glass is from a shop near the Academy. Reminded me of you. I figured it would be the best I could do in such short notice. Now you can drink and think about how embarrassing of a friend I am at the same time :) _

_ Also, I know we probably don’t know each other as much as we could. I’m not the best with words sometimes, but I hope my being around has at least made this experience less boring for you. If you ever need anything, let me know. Even if it’s just me sitting on your carpet while I read. _

_ hoping you have a good twenty-four, _

_ i.m _

She stared at the letter, a million thoughts running through her head at the exact same time, but none of them stood out except one.

_ If you ever need anything, let me know. _

She glanced at her phone, at the messages that were still up and the way they made her feel absolutely gutted every time she looked at them. Ian was only there when it was convenient. Ian was only there when he wanted her back.

She stood up, the letter still clutched in her hand, and left.

Idalia was her neighbor, just a walk across the hall, and even that was a struggle to make, but she did, her knock against the door soft. She prayed she would open it, not really sure what she would do if she didn’t. 

It took a few moments for the door to open, but it did, revealing Idalia in an oversized hoodie and pajama pants. She’d mentioned before she liked keeping her room cold. “I—” The moment she spoke, she realized she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Her eyes scanned Idalia for something, anything. She needed to say something. Her eyes settled on her hand, gauzed up, obviously injured. She hadn’t noticed it before. “What did you do to your hand?” She winced at the cracks in her voice.

Idalia seemed almost surprised herself, like she hadn’t realized she was injured either. She blinked down at her injured hand before looking back at her with a small smile. “Just an accident. It should be back to normal soon enough.”

Jen couldn’t meet her eyes, too fixated on the injured hand, and how her problems seemed so stupid in comparison. Idalia had been hurt, and she hadn’t noticed. Idalia, who had been so good to her and dealt with her moodiness and always been so kind no matter what, was hurt, and she couldn’t do anything about it. “You should... be more careful,” she managed before bursting out into tears again, clutching the letter a little tighter as her hands came up to cover her face to keep Idalia from seeing how stupid she was. How she couldn’t just keep it together.

Idalia tugged her into the room, and she didn’t fight it. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m okay, I promise. It was just glass.”

She shook her head adamantly, still curled in on herself while sobs shook her body. “It wasn't just glass,” she choked out, leaning against a wall as the only thing keeping her upright as Idalia closed the door.

She knew she was being pulled away from the wall, but she couldn’t see, just stumbled wherever she was led.

“It was just glass,” Idalia insisted again, and she could only keep shaking her head. “Come sit down.”

Jen didn’t have it in her to fight. She didn’t have it in her to do much anymore. She just sat down when Idalia led her to the bed, the tears waning just a bit. She accepted the tissue Idalia offered and pressed it to her face, leaning the slightest bit into her arm around her back. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Idalia brushed away some of the hair sticking to Jen’s face from the combination of snot and tears, and she couldn’t imagine it being a pretty face. She’d always been told she was an ugly crier. “Did something happen?”

Jen met her eyes then, saw the mixture of concern and confusion, and she wanted to spill every single thing she could, but the words died again the moment she opened her mouth. At least the tears were less. “I didn't want to be alone,” she said instead. Just one truth. A bit of progress.

Idalia gave a mumble that sounded a bit like “okay,” but Jen couldn’t think about it too much before she was pulled into a hug. Her grip was strong but still soft, enough to tell her that even if everyone else in her life wasn’t there, she still wasn’t alone. “Can I stay here tonight?” she asked, voice just above a whisper.

“I think there’s enough space in the bed for you,” Idalia tried to quietly joke.

Her lip still quivered every now and again, but she managed to hold in the tears for now. “Thank you.” She didn’t let go yet, only squeezed her tighter. “And you're always welcome to read on my carpet.”

Idalia’s hold relaxed just a bit, but not in the way that meant she wanted to let go.

That night, with Idalia fast asleep next to her, Jen lay cradled in blankets, a pillow pressed to her face as she cried herself to sleep and tried to push away his voice in her head again.

_ No one will ever love you the way I do. _

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to read the actual letter from Idalia [click here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1k-ifmAWTKtaxEIciO4gJvbGqEzL8OufT6e5dE4D8lps/edit?usp=sharing). Also, to see the shot glass Idalia got her, [click here.](https://imgur.com/a/LLbcqKD)


End file.
